Dean after making his deal in 2x22
by The.Impala's.Trunk
Summary: Dean's emotions straight after making the deal that would change his and Sammy's life for a long time. Dean now has a year left. And the clock is ticking.


Dean's POV after making his deal in 2x22

As I pulled open the car door and lowered myself into it, I looked out at the bumpy gravel crossroads that had just decided my fate. I held my hands on the steering wheel of my Impala tightly as it began to dawn on me what I'd just done. I'd effectively just planned and arranged my death, and a now had a clock on me that was imminently ticking that would not go away, no matter what I did now. And I'd done it without blinking an eyelid; at least, it had felt easy at effortless to do at the time. Now, sitting in my car, I wandered what exactly I was feeling. Fear, for my definite death in a year's time? Relief, that Sammy was now okay? Doubt, in case the demon went back on its words? I had no idea; I had never been too good at dealing with strong emotions, and the combination of probably all I had just considered weren't making a good mixture inside my stomach.

But no matter how hard I thought in that minute or two, I couldn't have possible felt regret for the deal I'd just made. If seeing Sam alive and happy again had the small price tag of my soul on it, then I would quite happily do it a thousand times over. My brother mattered a hell of a lot more than I did, and deserved to live more too. The pain that I'd felt over Sam's death in the last hour had subsided significantly since making my deal, and the fierce tear I'd felt in my heart seemed to be retracting with each minute. But I'd never forget it.

The thought of my brother alive again seemed to shoot more adrenaline into my exhausted body, and jogged me back to reality as I twisted the key in the ignition and the Impala made its obedient growl. I drove as fast I could, and found myself at the old town again in about five minutes. I got out of the car, pushed the door shut and quickly but silently jumped up the steps to the house where I'd left him two at a time. I gave the door a light nudge and went inside, as panic built up inside of me about what I might find in the next room. If I found Sam, still lying there, on that bed, then I had sold my soul for nothing, and the demon had tricked me. I was pretty sure that demons couldn't go back on their deals, but I wouldn't trust a demon if my life depended on it. I had to see with my own eyes.

Cautiously and slowly, I stepped into the lounge where I had left my dead brother. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bed where Bobby and I had laid him, but all that was left on the rusty mattress was a deep, dark, pool of blood from the stab wound in Sam's back. It took me a split second to look up and see my brother about a metre away from me, standing, looking at me. His expression was mingled with pain and confusion. The sight of Sam in front of me like that...I'd never been more grateful in my life.

"Sammy," I whispered.

"Hey," Sam began, but soon got cut off as I strode up to him and gripped him in a fierce hug. I felt tension and as he winced I realised I was hurting his nearly-healed back wound with the enthusiasm of my hug.

"I'm sorry," I said, letting him go reluctantly. "I'm just...I'm just happy to see you up and around, that's all."

I put my hands firmly onto his shoulders and helped him into a chair. Sam looked shattered, but a flicker of puzzlement crossed his face which I knew I didn't want to give him a true answer to. He asked me the question I was dreading a second after I predicted it.

"Dean...what happened to me?"

Okay, I could tell him some of the truth. "That kid – stabbed you in the back...you lost a lot of blood, it was pretty touch-and-go for a while."

I saw anger in my brother's face, followed by more confusion as the logic in his mind didn't add up with the information I'd told him.

"But...Dean...you can't patch up a wound that bad..."

My mind snapped into an excuse. "No, Bobby could." I replied quickly and efficiently; the vaguer the better. Sam nodded as he acknowledged this unknown and untrue fact.

"So who was that kid, anyway?" I asked; the longer I could keep him off the subject, hopefully the less he'd keep going back to it to piece the parts together.

Sam's eyes flared with anger as he looked up at me. "His name's Jake, did you get him?"

"No, he ran off into the woods..."

Sam tried to get up as quickly as he could, wincing in the process. "Well, c'mon, then. I swear, Dean, I'm going to tear that son of a bitch apart..."

I stood up quicker than he did and met him in the middle. I didn't want the Sam I had just effectively healed going and getting himself killed again. It would be more than I could with. I took his shoulders again and he met my eyes.

"Woah, easy man, damn!" He caught the hint of panic and worry in my voice and stopped moving. I looked round and searched for excuses in my head. "I mean, you just woke up, okay, let's get you something to eat. You hungry?"

Sam nodded truthfully and admitted defeat. Now we had to swap stories.


End file.
